a play in no acts: man of the cloth, staunchly anti-gay, anti-drugs, anti-you-name-it, periodically checks into a downtown hotel to have a 'private retreat', where he can write little books and sermons about how jesus was anti-gay, anti-drugs, and anti-you-name-it. man of the cloth gets bored, gets a little lonely, gets to thinking about how nice it would be to get high and have sex with a male hooker. aaahhh. that was good. afterwards he goes home to his little miss perfect submissive female and his well groomed kids and his wannabelieve congregation and tells them how bad everything is - and he should know. in fact, he's gonna do a little more research on all those very bad things.
Courtesy of jyosthnsay : just to share Pablo Neruda's Question Book *my favs* with you and your readers: feel the simplicity of that wonderment ... a) Tell me, is the rose really naked or does it just dress that way? b) Do you hear yellow detonations in mid-autumn? *the best one* c) where is the child that I was - inside of me still-or gone? d) From what does the hummingbird dangle its glittering symmetry? e) why all those wrinkles and holes in the rocks?